Prophecy
by Fyrest
Summary: Sylvia Greene, Mystical Vylan, and Silhouette all have had fairly rough lives. Silhouette, is normal, but is picked on a lot. Sylvia lost her parents when she was eleven. Mystical never knew her parents. But when Crystal, one of Earth's creators, comes to them in a dream that foretells a war, will the three be able to over come their differences to save their planets?
1. Prologue

Before I begin, I want to note something. I did not write this story alone. I had help from, mainly, two people. A large, furry, female wolf and a tall, two-legged animal. They wrote, or, rather, told me their sides too. Anything else was pieced together by investigation, or came in a dream. Now, onto the story.

********

A woman was watching the swirling purple fog inside the hole, begging the floating object to show her something different. The grass under her pale feet was still wet from fresh morning dew, the air heavy with humidity. The woman sat beneath a maple tree, watching her hot breath come out in small puffs in front of her. The sky was an inky blue, rather dark and depressing, despite the orange hue emanating from the horizon, due to the newly rising sun. A cold breeze rustled the leaves and pushed the flowers in the meadow gently with its touch. The woman shivered, but it was not from the cold.

The dimensional hole wavered as the woman concentrated. For the fourth time that day, she was trying to see into the future. For the third time, she dreaded what she knew she would see. Once again, as the purple fog became an image, she saw it. A war. Three worlds fighting each other for dominance, simply because one wanted more power. The woman sighed, sitting down in the soft grass in the shade of the tree, turning away from the unwanted vision to watch the sun rise on her right.

"It's pointless, you know," a rough voice said, from the woman's left. She glanced over and smiled at the tall man in the meadow. The man, dressed in a casual green tee and a pair of faded blue jeans, walked the short distance between them and sat next to her. "It won't just change because you want it to." The woman sighed, running a hand through her light caramel curls of hair.

"I know," she said tensely. "You're right, Sython. You always are." A smile tugged her, playing at her lips, but quickly faded. "I just wish that, for once, you weren't. I wish it wasn't going to happen."

"I know you do, Crystal," the man replied. "We all do. None of us want a war. But it's inevitable. If the Mid Sun has predicted it as many times as it has, it will happen. No matter what we do." Crystal turned to glare at Sython. But she knew he was right. The war was impossible to avoid, and she could do nothing about it. All that Crystal could do was sit in her bright silver gown and pray. The two sat in silent thought, pondering the incoming situation.

Crystal's thoughts turned to Sython himself. His dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. Sython was her best friend, or as close as she could get, considering they barely ever saw each other anymore. The other three Creators were around whenever he was (Except this moment, apparently), but only Sython knew her well. Cynthia was far too perky for Crystal, and Flaire was a little too aloof for much conversation. As for Aspen, he had a certain quality that leaned towards "annoying", but could not be labeled as such. Sython truly understood Crystal, seemed to recognize the things that no one else did.

A high-pitched hiss pulled Crystal back into reality fast enough for her to react. Her hand shot up and caught the object flying at her head just millimeters from her nose. She opened her hand to see a small silver square resting on her palm. _Don't be another set of questions from Aspen,_ she begged internally as she place the metal on her tongue, where it dissolved. A voice was suddenly in her mind. Elegant and silky, it said:

**Three worlds shall meet.  
A war shall take place.  
The worlds shall be destroyed.**

Crystal almost tuned out the message, until it continued into something of a much greater interest.

**Unless three can unite, destruction is inevitable.  
These three from different worlds must rise up.  
To fight. To prevent and protect.  
To save their worlds.**

The message ended, and Crystal was on her feet in seconds, stalking hurriedly out of the meadow, Sython tailing her silently. New knowledge filled her, and her heart swelled at the possibilities.

"What?" Sython asked. "What is it? Where are you going?" Crystal came to an abrupt halt, causing Sython to crash into her back. She turned to look at Sython, a grin on her face.

"We're going to stop a war from starting."


	2. Chapter 1 - Three Worlds, One Dream (I)

"Ungh," I groaned as I tossed my fifty-pound backpack onto the hardwood in the kitchen. It creaked under the pressure and sqeaked a little as I walked to the refrigerator for a drink. I'd just returned from soccer practice and I had at least three hours of homework ahead of me. It was all make-up work from last week, when I'd had the flu. Ugh. Get rid of the cold weather, Mr. Sun! Bring me the heat!

Once I approached the appliance, I fixed a leveled gaze on my blurred reflection on the shiny metal. Though slightly contorted, I could make out most of what was me, Sylvia Greene: The long, frizzy mane of auburn hair, straightened many long hours ago to perfection. The rich, tanned complexion of my skin, covering all five feet and six inches of me. And, my personal favorite, the pretty, moss-like-colored irises of my eyes, which connected me to my father. It all came together to form Sylvia Greene, long-time goody-goody.

Oh, yes, I was a perfect child, through and through. Never late to class, never skipped school, never turned in an assignment late, or on-time, for that matter. I was, in any and every adult's eyes, a role model that all children should respect, revere, and follow. And I didn't like it one bit. I was constantly an example of good behavior, and, while I was glad I made them all happy, it was very aggravating to be pulled forward before thirty students as a teacher stated the fact that I was the most well-behaved student in the entire class. It was even more annoying due to the following: It was almost winter break, I lived in a place that was COLD, and I had a volleyball and a soccer game on the last day before winter break, while I continued to try not to rip a teacher's head off in annoyance. It was so much pressure, being good all the time was becoming increasingly hard by the minute. I think you all know how hard it is to work when there so many other things, things that are way more fun, that are in the room, tempting you to stop? My case is about fifty times worse than that, because I don't have someone that will remind me to go back and finish my work. So, if there is one HUGE disadvantage to not having parents, it'll be this: you CAN'T goof off.

When you live with parents, or parent figures, they tend to remind you to finish your homework and your chores, should you be found not doing them. It's constant nagging, and I'd taken that for granted, had thought that being reminded to do chores was so unfair. Now, I find myself wishing for little more than someone to nag me. I wanted someone to right my wrong and then punish me for it, to ground me. But I can't have that. If I were to utter a single word of my parents, there'd be a full-on investigation, I'd be in foster care, and then I'd be sent to an asylum for talking about Magic. No thank-you. Teenagers never get adopted. Well, almost never. I might have a chance, due to my behavioral record, but no one wants an all-grown-up kid anymore. It's all about the babies and toddlers. Any kid under twelve years old has more of a chance than anyone else. Besides, I'd go completely and utterly insane in a foster home. With my destructive personality, I'd likely go to prison for physically harassing one of the foster parents. Basically, I'd knock out anyone that annoyed me too much.

...Lies. Those final two sentences were complete lies. I wouldn't hurt anyone unnecessarily. I may have a short fuse, but it never turns into violence like that. I have morals, and I usually follow them precisely. I don't lie to many people, only to myself. I _wish_ I would stand up for myself, I _wish_ I would be violent and bad. I just can't. I don't have any real confidence. I just block everything out, and my image is self-confidence because I'm not paying attention to anyone around me. I lie to myself so often, I could probably convince myself I was a vampire. But no, even the outside is the shy, goody-goody that everyone notices. Of course, right?

At home, I'm far from the school me. I am less withdrawn. I sing and dance and laugh when I fail at hopscotch. I do my homework and then whatever I want, when I finish up chores. I yell, scream, cry, get upset and everything in between. At home, I'm a leader, not a follower. At home, I'm the real Sylvia Greene. I'm the one that feels so much pain that I want to curl up and cry. I'm the one that does just that, sometimes, when it's all too much. I'm the one that cares what people think of me, though I make a conscious effort not to change a thing. I am the one with true emotions,. And then, on the way to school, I box myself up and the exterior side takes over, a side I've spent months on constructing.

My exterior loves sports, while I could hardly care. While she is spiking the ball, I'm trying to decide which book I'll read next. The Giver or the Temeraire series? While she is laughing and celebrating a win with her team, I'm trying not to scream at them, "Can't you tell that I don't care?" While she appears as confident and shy, I am boxing in my wariness and paranoia. While she laughs with her two best friends, I'm trying desperately to not second-guess their loyalties and motives. Say what you want about me having problems, but you would have them too, were you in my shoes.

Backing away from _those_ depressing matters, I pulled open the door of the shiny appliance and grabbed a Gatorade, in need of the electrolytes. I was absolutely exhausted; you have no idea how hard being goalie truly is. It takes a lot of speed and reflext, meaning a ton of energy. I quickly shut the gaping door after taking a long, much-desired swig of the sports drink, and picked up my backpack, my arms like noodle and my knees buckling under the pressure. Luckily, I caught my balance on the kitchen table and forced myself to stand straight.

"Why did I put it in here?" I grumbled as I shuffled into the living room. The T.V was still on from this morning, displaying a commercial for a new Disney movie featuring Ross Lynch and Maia Mitchell. I threw the bag onto the couch and reached for the remote. Tuning into an episode of Adventure Time, I plopped onto the comfy cushions of my leather furniture and pulled out my first batch of homework. French. I quickly set to work, hoping it would be easy.

For four hours, I worked. Algebra, French, English Lit., and, worst of all, an essay on event of the war between this country and that, known as the Korean War. My eyes, I noticed, were now drooping dangerously low. The essay was my assignment, I couldn't give up now! _You still have two days_, a voice said in the back of my mind. _You should take a nap. You deserve one._ I _had_ been working all day. I had a feeling a needed some sleep anyway. Before I really even knew it, darkness engulfed me into its embrace, pulling me gently into sleep.

A forest. Dark and foggy and... cold. Oh. I hated the cold. But... I didn't hate this one. That made very little sense, but I didn't bother trying to investigate the reason; I was far more interested in my surroundings.

"How the heck did I get _here?_" I mumbled, looking around for a door, as if I were in Monsters, Inc., and the door would take me home. I didn't see one, to my despair. Sighing in resignation, I began to slowly trek through the snow on the ground. Ugh, snow. I hated that too. But not here and now. Odd. I didn't look up from my feet once as I trudged through the wood, until I noticed the fog was clearing from around my ankles. My black sweatpants were clear in my vision, along with a portion of my green tank top. As I looked up, I noticed the fog had cleared to reveal a large clearing. There was a large rock cliff that looked like a shelter of sorts, and two green, leafy canopies on the opposite side of the cliff. The whole thing reminded me, oddly, of Warrior Cats. As I thought at the edge of the clearing, there was a flash of a bright, white light. It blinded me, and I stumbled over to the right, cling to the rock cliff for support. When the light cleared, I bit back a scream.

There were other people here. I froze, standing rigid in fear. My senses heightened. I focused on each person, making out three figures. One form was directly across from me, on the other side of the clearing. It had legs and arms, and looked a little human, but I couldn't be sure. Another was on the other side of the cliff, at least ten feet away from it, unlike me. It looked like some type of canine. A large one at that. The final one was in the center of the clearing, unmistakably a human woman. She had light brown hair that tumbled in curls to her mid-back. Her back was to me, and I was very aware that if she turned around, she would no doubt spot me.

Suddenly, the woman in the middle began to rise from the ground, high into the air. She stopped and simply hung in space, nearly a hundred feet in the air. There was a clap of thunder and a crowd of a thousand others appeared out of nowhere. And not just humans. Wolves and other animals too. The other animals were very strange-looking. They were normal animals: Mice, bears, horses, cats, dogs, monkey, pigs, and ducks. They all stood on two legs, with two arms. They fought, throwing pies and driving trains. It was an odd sight. The wolves bit and tackled, the human fired off their weaponry and punched and kicked. _Holy Aunt Serah,_ I thought. _This is a war!_ Suddenly, there was another clap of thunder and it all disappeared as fast as it had come. Trees had collapsed, the ground was cracked and had fallen away entirely in some places, and the rock cliff had broken off and was in front of me. It looked like an earthquake and a tornado had ripped the place apart.

"This is the destruction of war." The voice echoed around the clearing, loud and soft at the same time. Terrifying and soothing. It came from the woman.

"This is what will happen when the tree worlds meet. A war will destroy each of them. Earth. Shaireia. ToonTown. They will cease to exist. You three must join together to stop it." She paused, and shivers ran down my back. She looked directly at me, as if she sensed my doubt and disbelief. Her soft, baby-blue eyes locked with mine as she spoke a final sentence.

"You must save your world."

I jolted out of sleep, all of my tiredness gone. I shivered, looking around the room only to find the window near the T.V wide open. _That explains why I was so cold,_ I thought as I shuffled over, shutting the window with great satisfaction. That feeling disappeared, though, the moment I realized how bright it was outside.

"No," I whispered. "No, no, no!" I rushed to back to the T.V, opening the guide and staring with dread at the time.

What time was it? Seven thirty-three in the morning. I began gathering up my supplies, and rushed to my bedroom to get ready.

I was late for school by three minutes.

Gosh darn it.


	3. Bonus Chapter - Fynn Lyse

Bonus Chapter - Fynn Lyse

Smoke, smoke, smoke. That's all I remember from that night. Apparently my mother's lighter had fallen when she was using it, and set the house on fire. Both of my parents went down with the fire, but me, being the scared fourteen-year-old I was, I broke a window in my room (which was on the second floor) and jumped.

Maybe I should have just died; things probably would have been easier.

Of course, jumping out of a two-story window doesn't exactly leave you feeling perfect afterwards. I just sat there for about a good ten minutes, coughing and trying to bend my wrist (which was later pronounced broken at the hospital.) Then the sirens started wailing, and I was surrounded by the creepy guys in uniform. But of course, they came too late. Only in other people's situations do they come right on time and save your family. Instead, mine was left to burn.

"Where are your parents, son?" one of the men asked me, like he didn't already know, the moron.

"Where do you think?" I retorted, holding back tears. "Burning to death because you came too late."

"I'm so sorry for your loss," he simply said. "Are you hurt?"

"My wrist is all messed up," I said, pointing to my wrist, which was hanging limply. "I can't move it."

"Well then, let's get you to the hospital," he replied, helping me up and taking me to the ambulance.

I must've fallen asleep, because I woke up in a hospital bed with a cast on my wrist and the horrible reality that my parents had both burned to death.

"How are you feeling?" asked a nurse, walking into my room.

"Fine," I said dully. "My wrist kinda hurts though."

"Well, that's perfectly normal," she said, smiling. "The pain should go away in about a day or two, the break's not so bad. About three weeks and it should come off! Are you able to walk? There are some men from social services who wish to speak with you."

Great, I thought. Adoption people. I'm going to be sent to a foster home, and no one ever adopts teenagers. I'm going to be stuck with a bunch of lonely and sad kids and never amount to anything.

"Whatever," I said, getting up. I was happy they hadn't made me wear one of the stupid hospital shirts.  
I followed her to an office, where two men in tuxedos sat.

"Wait out here for a moment." The nurse said, giving me a fake smile. Then she walked in and closed the door. Of course, as the eavesdropper I am, I overheard everything.

"So what are we going to do with him?" One of the men asked. "The kid's got no living family left. We're going to have to send him to a foster home."

My heart started pounding. This was it. If I didn't go now, I'd be stuck with some losers for the rest of my life. So I ran. I ran out of the hospital, and sprinted as fast as I could until I reached a city park. I stood there, panting.

Fynn, what in the world did you just do?

~~~~~~~~~

Moving is what I do. It's what I've always done for the three years since the fire. I move around, do some odd jobs, buy supplies, and move some more. Part of it is because I want to see the world, and part of it is because no one wants a homeless teenager running around their neighborhood. Of course, there's always been the nice old lady who gives me a twenty, pats my hand and hobbles off without a word, but then there's the nasty people who look at you like you're different, like you're the scum on the bottom of their shoes. Their eyes are filled with hate and they say, get out. You don't belong here.

Of course, when have I ever belonged?


End file.
